


Paralyzed

by morgay



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Monty is a piece of shit, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Violence, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trauma, Whump, tyler deserves better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-09-26 03:58:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20383300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgay/pseuds/morgay
Summary: Tyler Down has always gone unnoticed. All it takes is a rape and an attempted school shooting, and suddenly, he’scaredfor again.**On hiatus





	1. Reasoning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something horrible happens to Tyler at Liberty High. Cyrus discusses his concern with Clay and Mack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, Tyler really spoke to me as a character while I watched season two. I’d hated his character at first, just passing him along as a creep, but through following episodes I realized how fucked up he was due to the bullying and harassment he received every day. Tyler’s relationship with Cyrus and Mack was adorable, and I really felt myself rooting for him.
> 
> The last thing I ever expected was for Monty to rape Tyler. I was so shocked, in fact, that I had to sit back and think about what had happened. I’d never seen anything like this in a show before, and it really spoke to me, being a survivor as well. 
> 
> I’ve just finished season 3 and I decided that I want to follow the similar storyline, but add more angst and hurt/comfort with Tyler and his reactions with the rest of the gang. This is going to be really fun and also heart-wrenching, but nonetheless, I hope you enjoy.

Tyler Down has never seen himself as anything special.

In every story, he’s the side character. _Sidekick_ is even a generous term. No one likes Tyler — hell, Tyler doesn’t even like himself. Every step he takes seems to bring crumbling walls with it; darkness spreads through every word he speaks, every glance he gives, every action he performs...

His head is a warped and tangled mess of thoughts he can’t quite keep his grasp on. It’s a maze, because no matter what Tyler does, he never seems to come out understanding himself any better. He acts on his emotions, on _fear_, and it eats him alive until he doesn’t feel human anymore. He thinks this is how others see him, too. “Tyler, fuck off. No one fucking likes you, you creep. Why are you still standing here? Pervert.”

The words — they’re all true. Tyler knows what he is, and he’s come to accept it. Of course, he wants to work toward becoming a better person, and he truly thinks he has, but sometimes (every single moment of every single day) he doesn’t trust himself. What if he says the wrong thing? What if he stalks someone again? What if he falls for a girl again? What if— what if—

Tyler doesn’t have time for What If’s. At least, not at Liberty High. Monty makes sure of that. He’s just in the bathroom, washing his hands, when he’s confronted. Tyler is scared, but not necessarily. They’re in the school — Monty can’t do anything to him. Right?

Wrong. Next thing he knows, Tyler’s head is being smashed into the window, shards of glass hanging like threads against his hair. He cries out when he’s pushed into the sink and flops to the floor, world tilting. Tyler is vaguely aware of someone dragging him to the first stall, where he’s dunked in the toilet, and he can’t see and he can’t _breathe_—

Someone pulls him back by his hair and slams him against the wall. He can feel the sticky beads of blood running down his forehead, trickling across his clothes and staining them crimson. Tyler tries to speak, but his words are slurred and nothing is making any sense in his mind— fuck. Fuck, he can’t think, he can’t move— he’s paralyzed. He’s limp beneath the weight on top of him.

Tyler sees Monty in his peripheral vision, but before he can plead for him to stop, Tyler is being pinned against the toilet and— oh, fuck, oh god, he can’t— he’s— no! Tyler tried to scream but someone clamps a palm around his mouth, effectively silencing him. All he feels next is white, hot pain. He yells and sobs into the hand, desperately trying to thrash, but it only makes the stinging worse.

They’re going to kill him. Monty is going to— to rape him, then leave him for dead. This is going to be the last thing Tyler ever sees, and the last thought he’ll ever have is _Why me?_

To be honest, Tyler is pretty sure he’s passed out for a few seconds, because when he stirs back to life, no one is in the bathroom. He slowly turns his head and sees the bloodied end of the mop along the ground. Tyler screams. His cries ache in his throat and he buries his face in his hands, sobbing hysterically.

That just happened. That just _actually_ happened. Shame and disgust flicker in the depths of Tyler’s heart, sending him spiraling. How could he have let something like this happen? Why didn’t he fight back? Why does Monty hate him? Why does _everyone_ hate him? All things considered, his mistake with Hannah had been the least significant. Tyler isn’t throwing away the consequences, but— he took a picture. One fucking picture. And then... and then he’s an outcast.

It hurts. Everything inside hurts, like he’s just been ripped open and left to die. In truth, he basically has. But Tyler knows he can’t sit here, despite how much pain he’s in and how much blood there is. He needs to clean this up, needs to wash off, get out of the school...

Tyler stumbles to his feet and cries out when another hot flash of pain shivers in his body. Everything is buzzing like bees in his head, but he manages to pick up the broom and run it under the faucet. He uses a shitload of soap to clean the wet blood off, and it takes some scrubbing, but is eventually cleaned. He stares at it with wide, glimmering eyes, and gently props it back up against the wall.

No one will even guess what could’ve just happened.

Tyler wets a paper towel and sets it on his forehead, wiping away the trickles of blood. His hands shake when he sees the thick clumps of crimson against the brown paper, but instead of focusing on the details, Tyler stuffs it into the trash. His vision is growing less blurry, but everything inside still hurts.

Fuck. He needs to get out of here, and quickly. Tyler can’t go back to his last class for his shit, so decides to just leave it. Who cares what happens to it? He just needs to get home. Gritting his teeth, Tyler swings the door open and limps into the hallway, squinting away from the bright lights hanging above his head. He raises his arm and tries to block everything out, welcoming the darkness, but his attempts are futile.

“Tyler?”

He doesn’t really register that his name is being called, so continues walking. Or, rather, limping. Tyler then realizes that someone is repeating his name, and the fear boils in the pit of his stomach. A hand clamps down on his shoulder and he whips around, jaw hanging open, eyes already filling with tears. Monty, it’s Monty— he’s back, he’s going to drag him into the bathroom again, they aren’t done with him—!

Oh.

It’s not Monty. It’s _Cyrus_. The black-haired male is staring quizzically— Tyler can’t tell if that’s concern or disgust— at him. “Dude. Did you not hear me calling your name?”

Yes, sort of. His voice is dry and his tongue feels like he’s licked a pile of sand, so he just shakes his head in return. Cyrus narrows his eyes suspiciously and scrutinizes him. “You look fucked up, man. Your head’s all— bleeding and shit. What happened?”

That fear, guilt, and shame settles back into Tyler, and he recognizes the terror. No one can ever know about this. No one can ever have another reason to make fun of him, to harass him, to _hurt_ him— he physically shivers and flinches back when Cyrus takes a small step forward. “Fell,” Tyler manages to mumble, but it’s hardly audible. He’s not selling this, but honestly, he just wants to get home and fucking slit his wrists. They aren’t even friends anymore, so what does Cyrus care?

Apparently, his ex-friend feels this is the best time to strike up a conversation. “Bro... look, I don’t want to intrude or anything—”

“But you are.” The words fly out of Tyler’s mouth before he can even think, but he soon finds he doesn’t care. “You— you are intr— intruding.”

Cyrus stares at him, unblinking. “Okay,” he finally says, raising his hands in defense. “Sorry. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Tyler bitterly laughs. He definitely doesn’t mean to, and he almost wishes he hadn’t, but fuck, it feels so _good_ to be angry. Cyrus wants to make sure he’s _okay_? You’re a little fucking late, buddy. Maybe by five minutes. The saddest part is that Tyler was actually doing better, and now it’s like he’s stepped a mile back from his progress.

He can’t fix that, can he?

“Like you care.” Tyler shakes his head and turns away, furiously wiping his tears and staggering off. He doesn’t want to talk to Cyrus. He doesn’t want to talk to _anyone_.

Tyler just needs to be left the fuck alone.

He’s pretty sure Cyrus doesn’t respond anyway, or if he does, Tyler just doesn’t hear it. His head aches and so does everything else in his body, and the ringing in his ears is only growing stronger, and shit, Tyler needs a break. He softly whines as he palms the back doors of the school open, stumbling out into the sunlight. Fuck. It’s hot. Out of all days..

Tyler shakes his head to himself and limps to his car, which is an agonizingly slow process. He feels a wetness on his cheeks and fearfully raises his hand to check and see if it’s blood, but he realizes it’s tears. Oh. He’s crying. That probably makes sense, considering. Well.

He eventually makes it to his car and fumbles with the door handle, slipping inside and crying out when he sits. The pain is horrid and he nearly screams, sinking his nails into his skin, creating small yet noticeable marks. “Fuck,” he sobs, slamming his hand into the steering wheel. “Fuck!” Tyler painfully lifts his knees to his chest and curls up into a ball, laying against the seat and crying into the safety of his arms.

Every part of him feels violated and abused. Tyler can feel the throb of bruises underneath his shirt, but is too terrified to check, too scared to find what he looks like. Probably not good.

The world around him seems to fade in black and white, receding around the edge of his vision. He blinks in confusion and tries to lift his head, but as soon as he does, the darkness returns in full.

* * *

There’s something about Tyler that doesn’t sit well in Cyrus’s stomach. He knows Tyler is fucked up, especially before he’d left for therapy or whatever, and he doesn’t necessarily want to be _friends_, but seeing him today... something is wrong. He can feel it.

Cyrus frowns as he walks back into the classroom, plopping down in his seat beside Clay. Cyrus is fairly sure Clay and Tyler know each other, and Clay is someone he genuinely respects. The guy is fuckin’ crazy, but in an admirable sort of way. Maybe he’ll understand.

“Clay,” Cyrus whispers, vaguely leaning over, not making eye contact as the teacher writes physics equations on the board.

Clay doesn’t regard him for a moment, very much tuned into the lesson, but seems to realize his name has been called. “Hm?” he asks, eyeing Cyrus suspiciously.

“Yo.” Cyrus shifts in his chair and puffs out a breath, running a hand through his shagged black hair. “So, I just saw Tyler in the hall, and... well. He seems a little fucked up, dude.”

Clay raises his brows dubiously. “Okay...?” He tilts his head back toward the whiteboard. Apparently that’s the end of the conversation, but Cyrus feels like he should know. Right? Like, isn’t this kinda important? Not like he _cares_. Hah! Tyler? He’s cool, sometimes, but definitely weird and school shooter-ish. Cyrus still hasn’t forgiven the whole thing with Mack — Tyler yelling at his sister like that... it makes him so angry.

But Tyler’s changed. “He was bleedin’ all over the place,” Cyrus attempts. This catches Clay’s attention. “Like, his head was cut open. He was limping, too.”

Clay sighs softly and rubs his forehead. “Why are you telling me this?”

“I dunno. Figured you know Tyler better than I do. I was just... erm... concerned..?” Concerned. That’s a better word than to admit he’s worried about Tyler. “He booked it out of school, though, so maybe he’s fine. Just wanted to let you know.”

Clay bites his lip and nods slowly. “Okay. Thanks for telling me.” He leans away and invests himself back into the lesson, but fuck, Cyrus just _can’t_. It’s like something is gnawing on his bones, like something is tickling his belly just enough to make it clench. It’s not a wonderful feeling. _Fucking Tyler... why do you have to make me worry about you? That isn’t my job._

When the bell rings for lunch, Cyrus quickly hops out of the chair and makes his way through the halls, instinctively padding to the cafeteria to meet up with his sister. He hasn’t actually talked to her about Tyler’s reappearance yet, so this is the perfect time to ask, probably.

_I need to catch her before she meets up with Eric.._ Cyrus bites the inside of his cheek and scans the lunch tables for the familiar ginger hair. He spots her standing in the lunch line and perks slightly, casually strolling over. “Hey, Mack.”

She turns around and smiles, eyes brightening. “Hey! What are you doing for lunch? You hanging around here today?”

Cyrus laughs. “I’m staying. Actually, can I talk to you about something? Not here.” He continues to smile, making sure to not draw any attention to the duo. Mack frowns immediately and nods, gripping Cyrus’s wrist and leading him to a quieter corner in the lunch room.

“What’s going on?” she whispers, turning to face her brother with wide eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Me? Oh, I’m fine.” Cyrus puffs out a breath and scratches the back of his head. He knows Mack won’t ridicule him for caring about Tyler, but still, it’s embarrassing. “It’s uh- it’s about Tyler, actually. Um.” He’s not sure how to continue, instead deciding to calculate her response and reaction.

Mack’s frown deepens. “Yeah, he just got back a few days ago, right? What about him?”

“Well— have you talked to him recently at all? I wasn’t sure, because, ya know... I’d understand if you don’t want to.”

“No, I have.” She shakes her head. “I told him I was dating Eric. He seemed fine with it, actually. Maybe just a little sad. I’m not too sure.” Mack shrugs, but her shoulders tense. “Cyrus, why are you asking me about Tyler? You aren’t mad at him or anything, are you..?”

“No. No, I’m not mad, not that,” Cyrus says. Shit. Maybe this is a bad idea, but he feels like Mack deserves to know. “I saw him today in the hall. He was limping and he had a nasty cut on his forehead...” He squints at the memory, still surprised at Tyler’s reaction. “I don’t know. It worried me.”

“Oh, gosh...” Mack grips her backpack tighter around her back and she looks away. “Is he still here? I could ask him- maybe that will help, maybe he’ll tell me if anything happened-”

Cyrus shakes his head. “Tyler’s gone. He left as soon as I saw him. It was weird. Like, major weird.”

Mack looks down. “I... this is my fault, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have gotten mixed up with Tyler. It doesn't help anyone. And now you have to deal with this, and...”

“Hey. _Hey_.” Cyrus reaches forward and holds Mack’s hands in his. “Don’t _ever_ apologize for caring, okay? It’s not your fault. I became friends with him first, anyway. Not you. If anything, I’m to blame.” He closes his eyes in frustration, then re-opens them. “I’m sorry I told you. It’s stupid. You didn’t need to know.”

“No. I’m glad you told me.” She smiles softly and leans into his chest, sighing. “We can talk to him, after the Spring Fling.”

“Oh, shit!” Cyrus laughs. “I forgot that’s tonight.”

Mack shakes her head and steps back, amused. “Who’s your date?”

“Tyler?”

“Awh! Shut up!”

The two siblings momentarily forget about their worry and head back into the lunch line to meet Eric and the others.

Unbeknownst to them, Tyler is home. He reaches under his bed and slips a thick black case out, scrutinizing it with dark and clouded eyes. He unhinges the locks, pops the lid, and stares inside at the stack of guns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Chapter 1 is here, and I have even more planned. If you’ve read this far, please leave a kudos and even drop a comment if you can! It would mean the world. Thanks so much.
> 
> _Next up: Mack receives a text, Tyler shows up to the Spring Fling, and Clay has to make a life-threatening decision._


	2. Bargaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mack receives a text, Tyler shows up to the Spring Fling, and Clay has to make a life-threatening decision.

Tyler stares at the deep blossoming bruises painting his chest, lined in red and black and purple, like he’s been dunked in wet paint. Unfortunately, it’s not paint, and unfortunately, the pain is _real_. He stumbles out of his room and closes the bathroom door behind him, covering his mouth and choking into his palm.

It feels like Tyler is — is empty. There’s absolutely nothing left to fucking live for. Everyone hates him, thinks he’s a creep and a pervert, and honestly, Tyler can’t blame them. But years without true social interaction take their toll, and fuck, Tyler just didn’t understand how to communicate. Taking pictures was a way for him to see a person for who they truly were. And now...

Well, Tyler doesn’t really take pictures anymore. Everyone will yell at him for it, and to be honest, he feels _free_ without that familiar weight wrapped around his neck.

Still. Tyler takes pictures of this — of his chest, his back, his throat, his head. He wants to document all of it, so that when he goes through with the plan, people will know what happened. Maybe Monty will even go to jail. Unlikely, but... still. He’s hopeful, for that at least.

Tyler drags himself to the ground and lets out an anguished cry that he attempts to smother with his hands. He doesn’t want his parents to hear him, but to be honest, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t give a fuck anymore. They’ll know soon enough anyway, right?

The thought constricts Tyler’s throat and a deep, looming pain shivers in his chest. He gags and slowly slides himself over to the toilet, mouth watering and eyes dripping with salty tears. Tyler empties his stomach into the toilet, sobbing as he does so, dry-heaving on the little food that’s left in his stomach.

Suddenly, though, Tyler’s confronted with horrid and bloody memories of the bathroom. He wheels back immediately, gasping when he hits the back of his head on the wall, and curls into a ball to try and protect himself from Monty. Monty isn’t here, but Tyler can see his gleaming eyes, he can see the way he stalks toward him as if he’s a piece of prey, he can see— he can see the mop—

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, this is too much. He can’t breathe. Tyler jumps to his feet, which is a messy and clumsy attempt, but he manages nonetheless. He stumbles out of the bathroom and makes it back into his room, slamming the door shut. Tyler furiously wipes the tears away and shoves his drying hair back from his face, happy the blood is off of him, at least. He feels like he needs to shower again, and again, and again to get the dirt off of his abused body. Shit.

Tyler eyes his desk and bites the inside of his cheek, considering. Should he leave a note? Probably, at least for his parents. They deserve to know why he has to die and why he has to do this. He grips the edge of the desk as he nears it, seating himself as delicately as possible. He still writhes under the pain and sobs again, digging his fingernails into his cheeks. It’s not fair. None of it is fucking fair.

Still. They should know. “Fuck,” he whispers, picking up the pen with a shaking hand. Tyler flicks out a piece of paper from the drawer and stares at the lines, wondering what he should say. ‘Oh, haha, sorry mom and dad, I was raped and decided to shoot up the school. Have a better life without me.’ No. That won’t work. He needs something more personable, something... something that actually explains what happened to him.

Tyler cries and begins to write on the paper, tremors causing the pen to smudge along his words, page tearing from where he tries to hold it with his left hand. His handwriting is spiked and thick but he doesn’t care, because he’s done, he’s made the video already, now— now he can go.

_Hey. If you’re seeing this, then I did something terrible tonight at Spring Fling. Mom, dad, you’ve been amazing parents and I hope you don’t blame any of this on yourself. If anything, Liberty High and the students that go there are to blame. I was assaulted in the bathroom and no one helped. No one saw. I’m doing this because I have to. I love you. Goodbye._

Tyler lifts himself out of the seat and creases the paper in half, placing it inside the white envelope. He pauses and turns, picking up the flash drive from his bed, and stuffs it inside as well. Tyler sets the envelope on the desk and his heart lurches. “Goodbye,” he whispers, eyes squeezing shut. “I love you guys. Always.”

He takes a shaky step backwards and feels the beads of rage burning under his skin, fueling him into a tireless anger. Years and years of harassment and abuse _still_ were never enough to drive him off the edge, but this... this is something entirely different. Montgomery took his spirit away through an entirely different action that he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to say out loud. Now he’s going to pay for it, and so is everyone else that ever rejected him.

_Mack_. The name comes to mind immediately and he freezes, frowning. Tyler lifts his phone from the table and scrolls through his inactive Instagram account. Mack’s posted something to her story, and when he checks, it’s a picture of she and Eric standing together near a couch inside the gym. _Fuck. She’s there, at Spring Fling. Cyrus probably is, too._ Tyler wipes his forehead, stressed, contemplating, what does he do, what does he do—

“Tyler?”

He instinctively presses the beanie farther down his forehead and forces a smile, turning around to face his mother, who’s standing in the doorway. He leans on the desk and places a hand in front of the envelope. “Hey, mom.”

“Hey.” She squints at him and looks at the camera propped up in front of the window. “You going to that school dance tonight?”

His throat goes dry and he’s not sure what to say. “Yes,” he manages, giving a crooked smile. The pressure of the beanie against his head wound is beginning to sting, and it takes all of his willpower not to rip it off of his head. _I can’t have my parents asking questions, though. They have to think I’m safe, that this is normal, that I’m fine..._

“Okay.” She smiles and steps back. “When do you think you’ll be home?”

_Never._

“Uh, probably later, maybe eleven or something.” Tyler shrugs, nonchalant, trying to deflect. The pain is growing worse and he just wants to get this whole thing over with. 

“Alright, sweetie. I’ll see you later.” His mother cracks the door and pads back down the hallway, descending the stairs.

Tyler stares for a moment then blinks back into consciousness, tilting his head to the side. He leans down and opens the thick black case, eyeing the containments. _Which do I bring..?_ He eventually decides to take the AK-47 and stuffs it in his bag, picking a silver pistol along with it. Tyler lifts a black belt and decides to pack that as well. He crouches there for a moment, feels the agony ripping through his underside, and lets the fury propel him forward.

He slips out of the house from the back door and rounds the side yard, clicking his keys to his car. Tyler pops the lid and stuffs his bag inside, faltering. He sees blood, crimson beads running down his face, Monty’s wicked grin, the mop— fuck. Tyler wails into his hands, shoulders shaking profusely. _Fuck. Fuck!_ He slams his hand down on the trunk to close it and throws himself into the car, forgetting about the pain for a moment.

Tyler starts the car and looks down at his phone. He flips through his messages and finds Mack. He hasn’t texted her for months— and this will be his last message to her.

**Tyler:** _If you’re at Spring Fling, get out while you can. I have guns._

He throws his phone into the passenger seat and revs the engine, adrenaline pumping from the roar of the gas. Tyler presses forward and begins his drive toward the school, face drawn. He rips the stupid fucking beanie from his head and chucks it into the backseat, wiping away the dripping tears. He’s fine. He’s fine. They deserve this. All of them do!

Next to him, Tyler’s phone dings relentlessly.

**Mack:** _Tyler_

**Mack:** _Don’t do this_

**Mack:** _What happened? Are you ok?_

**Mack:** _Tyler please don’t are you ok_

**Mack:** _Please answer me Tyler_

Tyler doesn’t answer. He grips the steering wheel with more force and tries to control himself. _I could crash the car right here and not hurt anyone but myself. That would be okay._ He shakes his head, though. _No. Liberty High deserves to be punished. This will make them understand the pain I feel. I’m not getting out alive either way, so I might as well go out big..._ Tyler lets out a broken laugh that turns into a smothered sob. His life is so fucked up.

He eventually makes it outside the gym and stares at the myriad of lights flashing from the windows, blanketing the area in a world of bright colors. Tyler’s heart thumps in his chest and he turns the car off, painfully sliding out of the seat. He closes the door and limps to the trunk, opening it and observing what he has. Pausing, Tyler eventually throws the strap of the AK-47 over his head, clicks and tightens the belt around his pants, and stuffs the pistol into the holster on the belt.

“Tyler!”

The shout jolts him from his frozen-over stare. He narrows his eyes toward the gym entrance, where he sees _Clay_ running towards him. Tyler takes a few steps forward on to the curb, ignoring the pulse when the other male jerks back at the sight of the guns.

“Tyler,” Clay whispers. “What are you— what are you doing?”

He purses his lips. “Get out of here, Clay. Go home.” Tyler’s voice is surprisingly even. Somehow, he’s able to hide the layers of agony underneath. _Not for long, I imagine._ He winces at the slight pain but hides it well enough.

“No. No, I...” Clay becomes out of breath when Tyler closes the length between them. “Don’t do this, Tyler.”

The pain grips his heart and thrums in his chest. It’s dull, but the fear is there. Tyler looks down on Clay and frowns deeply. Why the fuck is he so stubborn? Does he want to get shot? Tyler doesn’t necessarily _want_ to kill Clay, but he’ll do it if need be. Not out of revenge for the past, but just because he _needs_ to do this.

“You need to leave right now.” Tyler’s voice hardens and he doesn’t miss the wavering glance Clay gives the deep cut lining his forehead. He makes a move to cross Clay, but fucking hell, he’s moving in front of him again.

“Ty— Tyler, please.” His hands shake as he brings them up slowly. “Please, listen to me. You don’t wanna do this. I know you don’t.”

_That_ sends him over. Tyler can feel that rage burning underneath his skin, fighting tooth and claw to be released through his weapons. His voice is dark and bitter and he’s just so _done_. “You don’t fucking know anything about me.”

Clay jumps in front of him once more, stumbling over his words. “No, I— I do! I do know because I hurt, too.” Tyler breathes in deeply and looks down. “I’m pissed off. I didn’t realize how bad it was for you, and I’m sorry that I didn’t.”

He’s sorry? Tyler nearly laughs, but his facial features are too narrow to do so. He needs to expend his energy — killing will do that, probably. 

“Clay!” Two shapes barge out of the back doors of the gym. Justin gapes down at the scene, eyes wide, and Jessica stands still at his side. Tyler flicks his gun toward the two, furrowing his brows. 

“Go— go back inside!” Clay screams back, waving his arm to push the muzzle of the gun to the side. 

“Jesus, Clay!”

“Go inside!” His voice breaks and Clay watches the two return back into the gym. 

“Get out my fucking way.” Tyler legitimately doesn’t want to kill Clay, not right now, and not like this. He’s too brave and stubborn for his own good, and he deserves to live. Clay deserves to be happy after getting redemption for Hannah. His voice breaks and he finds that deep-rooted terror returning, curling black fingers around his heart. _Please, Clay._

“Tyler. Please.” Tears drip from his eyes as he spreads his hands out, chest heaving. “_Don’t_ do it.”

Tyler clenches his jaw. “I have to.” He _needs_ to. 

“No, you don’t have to!” Clay shakes his head desperately. “You can turn around!” Can he? Can he really turn around and forget about his anger? Bury it deeper than it already is? Tyler isn’t sure that’s possible, but a small part of him believes it. “You can go home!”

The wailing of police sirens rings in Tyler’s ears. He twists his head around and feels the weight settle back over his chest. “Everybody knows already.” He turns and takes a small, shaky step forward.

“No, no— the only people that know are the people who _know_ you, and— and they want to help you!” 

Tyler can’t tell if he’s being mocked, manipulated, or if Clay is being completely truthful. It throws him off guard, because he knows he isn’t cared for. He’s been rejected for almost his entire life. Who the fuck cares about _Tyler Down_? “Bullshit,” he whispers, pressing the muzzle into Clay’s neck.

“No, look.” Clay gulps in fresh air and leans back when the cool metal connects with his skin. “Tyler— Tyler they know you’re hurting. We all are! And I don’t know what to do about it, either.” Clay steps back as Tyler moves forward. His tone becomes louder, more wavering and desperate. “Okay? I tried hurting other people, right? I tried hurting _you_! And it didn’t _fucking_ help, man!”

Tyler lifts his chin and sets his face, feet freezing in place. What if Clay’s right? What if hurting others isn’t the answer? Suddenly, this idea doesn’t seem so spectacular.

“It doesn’t do any good,” Clay continues, crying out. “Listen to me — it doesn’t!”

The sirens grow louder and Tyler momentarily droops his gun to the ground, turning his head to listen. _They’re getting closer, and I’m running out of time. I either have to do this or not._

Clay takes his chance and steps forward. “Tyler, listen,” he says, “you don’t get out of this alive.” He whips around and levels the gun to Clay’s neck once more. “And I don’t want you to die!” he yells.

But Tyler wants to die. Everyone fucking hates him, right? He’s the laughing stock of Liberty High. The creep. The pervert. The stalker. He was r— fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tyler doesn’t twitch, nor does he move to pull the trigger.

“I— I don’t want you to die.” Clay breathes in harshly through the thickening silence. “If you think this is the way, if you really think this’ll change a goddamn thing and won’t just be another fucking tragedy that adults cry about for a week and then forget, if you _really_ think that this is gonna be different...” He bites his lip to stop from crying. “Then do what you gotta do.”

Those fucking words break Tyler into tiny pieces of glass. _Do what you gotta do._ Tyler has a choice in this, for once in his goddamn life. He gets to decide the fate of others — not the other way around. He lets oxygen filter through his lungs and contemplates, eyes flickering to the gym, ears catching on to the nearing police sirens. 

“Come on, Tyler,” Clay whispers brokenly. “_Please_?”

Tyler slowly lowers the gun with shaking hands, gaze clouding over with tears. “There’s nothing else I can do,” he says, realizing how fucked up he is and how fucked up all of this is.

Clay shows the hint of a small, weak smile. “There is.” He reaches forward and tips the gun down farther. “We’ll figure it out. Okay?” Tyler stares forward. “I swear.”

He looks down at the AK-47 then back up to Clay, and suddenly, Tyler feels like he’s a little kid again. He’s ripped away from the comfort when tires screech beside him. “What the fuck?” He nearly whirls the gun in that direction, but Clay holds his shoulders in place.

“That’s Tony,” he nervously explains, “it’s okay. It’s Tony, you gotta go.” 

Tyler nearly trips over his own legs at the sight of the red Mustang. Where is he going? What the fuck is happening? He doesn’t feel in control anymore— he needs to be in control again—

Tony throws the passenger door open, leaning over the console. “Get in the car!” he yells.

Clay gently removes the strapped AK-47 from Tyler’s neck and steers him forward. “Come on. It’s okay,” he says soothingly.

Tyler looks back toward the gym exit, wondering if it’s all too late, but it’s darkened by the tinted windows of the car. All he can see is Clay’s hunched figure as they peel away from the curb.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hell yeah! this chapter was really fun and the end scene here is from s2 finale. hope you enjoyed, and please leave a comment! now we’ll start heading into non-canon territory (:
> 
> _Next up: Tony escapes with Tyler and Clay explains the situation to the rest of the gang._


	3. Escaping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony escapes with Tyler and Clay explains the situation to the rest of the gang.

Tyler sits in the passenger seat of the Mustang, heart clenching. He taps his fingers along the windows, eyes glazed over, body twitching with painful tremors. It feels like he’s been dunked in a cold bath, and fuck, he’s so _cold_. Tyler’s head is spinning and he can’t stop shaking and the pain is only growing worse—

“Tyler.” Tony glances over from the driver’s side, brows pressed together. “I need to remove your belt.”

His belt? Tyler looks down and realizes the belt is still wrapped tightly around his hips, pistol shining in the holster. “Oh.” His voice is dark and rough and everything fucking hurts.

“Can I take it off?” Tony doesn’t wait for an answer and leans over.

“No!” Tyler yells, pressing himself into the corner of the chair, trying to stay out of reach from Tony. He doesn’t want to be touched. He doesn’t want anyone to put their fucking hands on him ever again! “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Okay, okay—” Tony breathes out, clearly frustrated, and places his hands back on the steering wheel. “Can you take it off yourself, then?”

Can he? Yeah, probably. But he doesn’t want to. The idea of being vulnerable with another male he hardly knows isn’t tempting. He wants to say ‘No’, but then he remembers that Tony is Clay’s friend, and Clay just wants to help him, right? Fucking hell. “O— Okay.”

Tyler doesn’t miss the relief that spreads across Tony’s face as he reaches down and unclips the belt. Air fills his stomach and he winces, sliding it away from his body. “What do I—”

“Give that to me.” Tony swipes the belt from his hands and throws it into the back seat.

Tyler jerks back from the quick motion and his breathing grows more labored, heart thumping heavily in his chest. He thinks about the way his head had been smashed into the glass, the painful blows that the sink had given Tyler’s head. A whine catches in his throat and he slowly shifts away, turning his body. Tyler lifts his legs to his chest and hisses from the pain, wiping the blood from his forehead cut.

Tony sighs and clenches his fingers, shooting glares at Tyler every few moments. “Why—” He sets his jaw. “Why the hell would you try something like that?”

_Monty._ He softly cries out and covers his face with his palms, shoulder sagging. He wishes he could go to the hospital, but he’s too scared, too terrified of what everyone at Liberty would say about a guy being r— raped, about his parents’ reactions, about all of it. Tyler isn’t strong enough to do it. He’s a fucking coward.

“You know those are my friends, right?” Tony shakes his head. “You could’ve _killed_ them.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles in a pained voice, scratching his fingernails along his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry..” Tyler tastes the salty tears as they roll down his face and drip from his chapped lips. He runs a hand through his hair and feels the weight of the situation really hit him. _I nearly killed every single person in that gym. Innocent people, who never did anything to me. But I also let the ones who have hurt me get away. They’re alive. They could be dead, and so could I._ That thought is the most painful.

“Yeah, you’re sorry.” Tony scoffs and goes silent for a few moments. Tyler doesn’t blame him for being angry. Tyler’s angry at himself. “Why did you do it, Tyler?”

He squints his eyes shut and sobs, not even caring at this point. Whatever. He’s fucking useless and pathetic. “I— I don’t know—” Tyler curls up into a tighter ball, full of shame and anguish. “Fuck!”

Tony flinches and Tyler cries out. Now everyone’s going to be scared of him, then Monty is going to come back and hurt him, and he’ll never be normal again. His parents have probably already found the note and flash drive — Tyler’s fucked.

“You don’t know? You have no idea why you tried to kill my friends? My _family_?” Tony shifts. “If that’s your reason, then maybe you should’ve just stayed in that fucking program. Clearly you’re fucked up, and I’m tired of dealing with Clay’s messes.”

_Clay’s mess. That’s all I am now._ He can’t help it and begins to sob, tears flowing freely. Part of Tyler wants to just go to the hospital and report what happened, but— but it won’t matter. It won’t do any good. If Bryce wasn’t convicted, then Monty won’t be either.

“Fuck...” Tony sighs heavily and lets the silence thin between them. Tyler pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes and lets the darkness wash over him, letting that comforting blanket remove all his worries and memories. He doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until Tony snaps something into his phone. Wha..? He blinks open his eyes and whirls his head to the side at the sudden noise, then slowly slumps his shoulders when he realizes it’s nothing. _Oh.._

“Clay—” Tony growls into the speaker of his phone. “This is insane. Where are we supposed to go? I can’t just drop him off somewhere and hope he finds his way back home.” A pause. “No— fuck. The cops passed us earlier. No, they didn’t. We’re fine. Tyler is fine. Now, where are we meeting?”

Tyler frowns and curls his fingernails into his cheeks, brows furrowing slightly.

Tony hums. “Sure. Fine. Whatever, I’ll see you there. Is anyone else coming—? Yes?”

Tyler tenses. _What? Who’s coming? It isn’t Monty, right? It— it won’t be him? It can’t be, I can’t see him again, I cant—_

“Okay. Bye.” Tony ends the call and shoves his phone into his pocket, grumbling. He shoots a glance at Tyler and scrunches his nose. “We’re meeting in some shithole by the forest. You’re not gonna try and shoot us up there, are you?”

That hurts. Tyler’s heart constricts. He mutely shakes his head and turns away, tears welling in his eyes. God, he’s fucking pathetic. Maybe he should’ve done it. Then he’d be dead, and he’d never have to worry about seeing Monty again. He’d never have these horrible goddamn memories flashing behind his eyes and sending him into a frenzy. He’d be— he’d be _okay_.

But Tyler isn’t okay. He hasn’t been for a long time, and certainly isn’t now. Unfortunately, any former plans had ended in death, and he’d never really expected to make it _here_.

But he is here. Tyler _is_ here, and fucking hell... he’s so tired of it.

* * *

”Clay. What the fuck.”

He presses his brows together and throws his head over his shoulder to glance at Justin. “What?” he defends, hands clenching. Clay’s heart is still beating at a rapid, unhealthy pace. If he has a heart attack, he’s totally blaming Spring Fling.

“_Clay_.” Justin sighs and shifts forward through the masses of people, pressing into Clay’s side. “This is fucked up.”

“It’s fine.”

“But are _you_?”

“Yes, Justin.” Clay blows out, aggravated, and glares at his foster brother. “Seriously. Stop it. It’s annoying.”

Justin spreads his palms out in surrender and tilts his head to the policemen strutting through the gym, questioning different students and writing things in their notepads. Clay will admit that he’s intimidated by the bulky black suits and the guns tucked in their holsters, but the police officers are here to protect them. “You think anyone will tell?” he eventually whispers.

_I hope not_, he wants to say, but decides against it. “No,” Clay replies. “Zach may have been the one to call the cops, but he won’t reveal anything. We’d all know if he did.” He rolls his shoulders forward and sets his jaw. “You aren’t going to say anything, are you?”

“Hell no, man.” Justin shakes his head and bites the inside of his cheek, running a hand through his hair as an anxious tic. “I mean, I think this whole situation is _fucked_, but... I support you. I’ll follow you wherever.”

Clay looks at his brother and shows the hint of an appreciative smile. Unfortunately, it’s cut short when someone slaps a hand on his shoulder and wheels him around.

Oh. It’s Cyrus.

“Where the hell is he?” Cyrus asks, grinding his teeth together. 

Fucking hell. “He’s with Tony—”

“He’s _alone_ with Tony?”

Clay squints. “Tony can handle himself. Besides, we took his gun. Guns. Whatever. We’re meeting him soon, anyway.”

Cyrus squares his shoulders and stands straight, clearly determined. “I’m coming with you.”

“Um.” Clay sucks his teeth and exchanges a glance with Justin. “Is that really a good idea? I mean, you knew him better than we did, so...”

“That’s exactly why I need to go. I need to understand why the fuck he did it, why the fuck he even _tried_ it, and it’s the best time to get an answer.” Cyrus’s hands begin to shake.

_Shit. This guy’s just gonna make things worse, but... he wants to come along. We can’t just leave him here, I guess._ Clay reluctantly nods. “Fine. But please don’t make him shoot us in the face or anything. I don’t want to deal with that again.”

Cyrus’s eyes round slightly and he falters. “Shit, man.” He scratches the back of his head. “I can’t believe you charged out there and— and did _that_. You’re a madman.” He smirks. “I respect that.”

“Err... thanks..?”

“Sure, dude.” Cyrus pats Clay’s shoulder and pauses when Jessica stomps up to the group. “Uh oh.”

“What the _fuck_,” she says loudly, garnering the attention of a few idle students around them.

“Hey. Jess.” Justin strides forward and wraps his hand into hers. It’s subtle, but Clay notices. _Shit. At least Alex isn’t here.._ “You okay?”

“Am I _okay_?” She shakes her head incredulously and turns to Clay and Cyrus. “We almost died. Like, seriously. That close. And then Clay—”

“Hey, shhh.” Justin presses into her side and wraps an arm around her waist. Jessica relaxes slightly, but is still brimming with anger. “Look, we’re dealing with it, okay? And no one was hurt, so there’s really nothing to worry about.”

Jessica scoffs. “Nothing to worry about... yeah, someone nearly just _killed_ us.” Her voice drops several octaves and her eyes dart around before landing back on Clay. “Not only that, but I had to lie to the police. This is fucking crazy. I should’ve just told them—”

“Yeah,” Cyrus mutters bitterly, crossing his arms. “You’re lucky no one said anything.”

“I _know_.” Clay spreads his hands to shut the rest of the group up, but they continue arguing, much to his dismay. “Look,” he pipes up, “I didn’t— I didn’t want to do that. But I had to. And now Tony’s with him, and we’re meeting soon, so really, it’s all taken care of.” A pause. “You’re welcome.”

Jessica exhales. “Normal people don’t suddenly pick up a gun and decide to try and shoot up a school dance. Something clearly happened, or maybe he’s crazy and we just haven’t been able to see it.”

Cyrus frowns. “I mean...” He hesitates, but everyone is looking at him, so he’s kind of forced to continue. “Tyler is kinda— I wouldn’t say fucked up, but in a way, yeah. He kept a bunch of guns hidden under his bed, and he leaked all those photos of us vandalizing the field, so— he really doesn’t give a shit about anyone else. It’s kind and obvious.”

“But something was _different_ about this.” Clay chews at his lip until he tastes copper, a bad habit that’s been plaguing him recently. “Did you guys— no. No, you didn’t see, but he had this big ass cut on his forehead. Like he’d been slashed by a knife or something.” He shivers at the memory. Seriously, Clay needs to suppress all of that. “And...” He trails off and shakes his head. _He was limping, and sometimes he’d stagger, liked he’d been beaten to hell..._

“Maybe he’s crazy,” Justin says slowly, “maybe he’s not. Either way, we gotta get to the bottom of it.”

“Then I’m coming, too,” Jessica announces.

“_What_? Fuck no. I can’t let you go near him, Jess.” Justin stares at her with wide puppy dog eyes. “It’s not safe.”

“This _school_ isn’t safe.” She rips herself out of Justin’s grip and straightens her back. “Maybe I can help, you know? If he won’t talk, I can, like, be nice.”

“Are you saying I can’t be nice?” Justin asks, feigning offense.

She smiles, eyeing him. “To me, but that’s about it. You’re a bad boy, remember?” Jessica pokes his nose and Justin laughs.

Clay turns away from them, tapping his finger to his chin. “Okay. If this is happening, then let’s all get going.”

“Where are we meeting?” Cyrus asks.

“Ah...” Clay nearly laughs, but is able to suppress it as a quiet wheeze. “Me and Tony— we used to go to this old, abandoned barn in the middle of the fuckin’ woods. We made it into a fort before some old hobo came around and scared us off. Anyway, we both know where it is and it’s secluded, so— yeah. We’re all gonna ride together, probably.”

Jessica makes a face. “The creepy hobo isn’t gonna be there now, is he?”

Clay snorts. “Probably... not..?”

And, to be honest, Tyler is a lot fucking scarier than some random homeless dude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. Sorry for the little wait there, but this week has been absolutely dreadful. I reported the guy who sexually harassed me, there was a family death, and then there was a shooter in my town on Saturday. I finally got around to writing, so I hope you guys enjoy. Tell me what you think! I would really appreciate it. Thanks, lovely readers.
> 
> _Next up: Tyler is confronted at the barn._


	4. Questioning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyler is confronted at the barn.

“So... what the hell are we gonna ask Tyler once we get there?”

Clay sighs softly as he presses his foot on the gas, watching the lights buzz by the car window in the night. They’re on their way to the barn, but everyone still has questions. They need a plan, but.... well, for once, Clay doesn’t have one.

“I don’t know,” he says, clenching the steering wheel. Clay offers a glance in Justin’s direction. “I don’t want to provoke him, though, you know?”

“Yeah...” Justin threads his fingers through his hair and leans back. “I just — I seriously don’t know why he did it. Who does something like that? Who goes that far?”

“Maybe because he’s crazy...” Cyrus mutters from the back seat.

“Or he’s hurt,” Jessica offers from beside Cyrus. “Maybe not physically, but — it’s not like everyone at school is exactly nice to him. It would make sense, Tyler snapping like that.”

“He wasn’t any more bullied than the rest of us.” Cyrus makes a face. “I can bet a thousand dollars I went through more shit in middle school than he ever did. Y’know — when my little phase began.”

_He doesn’t know everything._ Clay frowns and thinks about the few times he’d talked to Tyler before his program. He’d seemed — okay, not great, but he was getting along. It just doesn’t make sense.

“My only question is...” Justin sighs. “I mean, didn’t he just come back from rehab?”

“Not rehab,” Clay mutters. “Some program, I don’t remember what it was though.”

“Yeah, that. Well— I mean, if they saw him fit enough to let him go and come to school, then he should’ve been fine, right? Like, better?” Justin scratches his face. “I don’t understand why he suddenly came back and decided to try and shoot up the school. He should’ve gotten better — not worse.”

Cyrus frowns. “I dunno, man. Some of those kids, y’know — the ones in the program — come out angrier than before. The leaders and other students make them understand _why_ they’re upset, so they kinda just...” He waves his hand. “Pretend to be fine, get back home, then strike.”

“Well, let’s think about this.” Clay taps his chin. “Tyler texted your sister, right?” Cyrus nods slowly. “Then that has to mean there were certain people he didn’t want dead. I mean, he didn’t kill _me_, and god knows I deserved it more than anyone...” Clay begins to shake and inhales thickly. Justin notices and pats his shoulder, smiling softly. Clay can’t find it inside to return the expression. “This isn’t a family problem. It’s something to do with the school.”

“But _why_? Why _now_?” Cyrus asks.

“When I...” Jessica breathes in harshly. “When I was— after what happened with Bryce, I really thought about doing something drastic. Something I couldn’t ever come back from.” She tilts her head and looks out of the window, screwing her eyes shut. “I don’t blame him for being angry, really. Fucking hell, _Chloe_ was—” She cuts herself off. “She was hurt _on_ campus. No one knew. So maybe there’s a different angle here. Maybe it’s not what happened before...”

“But what happened recently,” Justin breathes.

“Cyrus.” Clay looks in the rearview mirror. “Didn’t you tell me in class today that he was bleeding when you saw him in the hall?”

Jessica’s eyes widen.

“Yeah.” Cyrus nods. “He came out of the bathroom, limping, and he had this big fuckin’ cut on his forehead. Blood was still pouring out of it. He was acting weird, but he told me he just fell, so..”

_I should’ve known. I should’ve cared earlier, gone after him._ Clay bites the inside of his cheek, cursing himself for being so _stupid_. “You told me and I didn’t care,” he whispers. “I could’ve stopped it.”

“Dude.” Justin leans forward and shakes his head. “You _did_ stop it.”

That shuts him up.

“You probably couldn’t have done anything anyway, bro.” Justin puffs out a thick breath of air and rubs a hand over his face. “Let’s talk to Tony first, then we can try and figure out the Tyler situation.”

Yeah. That’s... probably a good idea.

When they finally arrive at the barn, the night has fallen silent, save for the comforting hum of cicadas and the quiet chirps of crickets. Clay turns the engine of the car off, hesitating before he drags himself out of the seat, shutting the door behind him. Cyrus rounds on his side, looking at the path with narrowed eyes.

“Come on,” Clay mutters, stuffing the keys into his pocket and leading the way on the natural pathway. The pines tower high above them, branches strewn along the treetops like a canopy of webs. The moon is blocked out by the thick needles, leaves crunching under their shoes as they walk. Clay fishes for the flashlight and clicks it on, peering through the thick and dense foliage surrounding the area.

He spots the familiar peeling wooden planks and stumbles forward into the clearing, tilting his head up at the stars scattered far above their heads, twinkling brightly. The trees give way to the gaping mass of navy sky above, like they’ve been submerged into the depths of the ocean. Clay returns his sharp gaze to the old barn, where he sees Tony pacing restlessly next to the cracked door.

“Hey,” Clay calls, and Tony’s head snaps up. He looks confused and cautious for a moment, then relaxes when he realizes it’s just them.

“Hey,” he murmurs, running a hand through his hair. Tony leans along the wall, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have brought so many people, Clay.”

Clay swipes his head over his shoulder and eyes Justin, Jessica, and Cyrus. “Okay, in my defense,” he begins, turning back to Tony, “Cyrus and Jessica demanded to come, so.” A pause. “How’s Tyler doing?”

“He’s freaking out.” Tony curls his hand into a fist. “Can’t even go near him. Freaks out if I try to touch him. He’s like a cornered animal.”

Clay frowns. _He let me touch him_, he thinks, but shakes his head. It had been in the heat of the moment — Tyler would probably be less than optimistic about letting Clay do so again. “Well,” he breaths, “let’s see him.”

Tony shoves a hand out in front of Clay to stop him before he enters. “Clay, I don’t want to be a part of this,” he says lowly. “I have a boyfriend. A good job. I can’t get caught up in anything else that’s illegal. One more strike...”

“Trust me. You won’t be caught. None of us will; the cops don’t even know anything.” Clay fixes a soft gaze on Tony, who looks away. “Okay? Can you trust me? When have I ever lied to you?”

“Ugh. Fine.” Tony shakes his head and shrugs his black leather jacket further on his shoulders. “Seriously, though. Be careful. I got his other gun, but—”

“He had another gun?” Clay’s voice drops to a harsh whisper. Since when? How had he not seen it?

“Yeah, thanks for noticing,” Tony mutters bitterly. “All I’m saying is that he’s a little unstable right now. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Yeah?”

Clay rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine, okay. Don’t worry about it—”

“Fuck the talking.” Cyrus stomps up from behind the duo and shoves the door open. “It’s time to get some fuckin’ answers.” The inside of the barn is practically decrepit, most of it in shambles and pieces. A low-hanging light sways from the ceiling, providing at least _some_ kind of view. And, well.

Tyler is standing in the farthest corner of the barn, legs bent slightly as if in pain. He’s covering his face with his hands, and he’s visibly trembling. _Like a fucking leaf_. Clay frowns, but before he can step forward, Cyrus is already there.

“What the _fuck_?” Cyrus snaps.

Tyler’s head flicks up and he lets out a broken puff of air, covering his face with his hands. They stay hovering for a moment before he realizes it’s Cyrus, and they slowly fall to his sides.

Cyrus glares at Tyler. “Well? What the fuck did you do?! What went through your fucking mind, huh?” He harshly taps on Tyler’s forehead, and he cries out in pain, hands snapping forward to push Cyrus back. Clay can see the beads of dried blood running down Tyler’s forehead, trickling over his nose and to his chin. Cyrus pauses, but doesn’t back down. 

“I-” Tyler shakes his head and shivers under Cyrus’s shadow. “I-I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

“No shit you weren’t thinking!” Cyrus growls.

“Hey, let’s just calm the fuck down, okay?” Justin steps forward and tugs Cyrus back by his shoulder, eyeing Tyler warily before turning to Clay and Jessica. Tony is standing near the door, watching silently.

Tyler’s whine draws their attention. He draws his hands close to his chest and flops to the ground, curling up in a fetal position. Clay stares at him, his only clear thought: _What the fuck happened to you, Tyler?_

No one makes any kind of move. The sounds of nature buzz in Clay’s head, and he wonders what he can do to change this — what he can do to help. Tyler doesn’t seem to be very forthcoming, though, and without some hint as to what’s wrong... well, then how _can_ he help?

“Ugh..” Jessica shoves her way forward, frown deepening. She crouches down and hovers in front of Tyler, who curls up on himself from her presence. “Hey. Tyler.” Her voice drops several octaves and there’s a silky, kind softness to the words that seem to bring some sort of comfort to Tyler. His shoulders relax slightly, but his hands are still covering his face, and he’s still shivering. “I know this is hard, and I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling right now. We just want to know what’s wrong, and if we can do anything to help you.”

Tyler doesn’t respond for a few long, silent seconds. He draws his feet forward but slowly lifts his chin to Jessica, eyes red and full of tears. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“Hey. It’s okay.” Jessica sits on the ground, leaning her back up against the barn wall. She crosses her arms over her bent legs. “We don’t have to talk about it now, if you don’t want. We just really want to understand what happened.”

“We..?” he whispers cautiously, not taking his eyes off of Jessica.

She nods. “Me, Clay, Tony, Justin, and Cyrus. It’s just us. Okay? You aren’t in trouble or anything. You’re safe.”

Tyler whines into his arms and shakes his head, flinching back. “My parents probably already found it,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone, “they know- they have to know- it’ll never be the same-” He tries to suck in a breath but it’s a dry, heavy sob. “It’s o-over.”

“Found what?” Clay asks from behind Jessica.

Tyler doesn’t respond. 

Clay and Justin exchange a glance, but before they can speak, Jessica is continuing. “I understand how you feel,” she says softly. “I mean.... everyone knows what happened. You know. You defended me in court against Bryce, and no matter the outcome, I’ll always be grateful for that.” She pauses, thinking. “But I’d really like to know why you brought guns to the school. What were you planning to do?”

“Well, that’s kind of obvious,” Cyrus scoffs, crossing his arms. “He wanted to kill everyone!”

“I wanted-” Tyler’s voice harshly breaks through, but he deflates as soon as the attention is back on him. “I’m tired of- of this school. The fucking people. No one cares, and-” He sucks in a deep breath and begins to sob. “No one _fucking_ cares! So I...I thought...maybe someone would care, maybe someone would change something if I did what I wanted to do.”

“Did you want to hurt everyone, Tyler?” Jessica asks.

He quickly shakes his head and curls his fingers into his hands. “N-no,” he whispers shakily. “I didn’t, I... I just- I wanted to hurt the people that hurt me.”

“Who hurt you, Tyler?”

At those words, Tyler completely breaks down. He drops his head into his hands and cries freely, a full-fledged panic attack ripping away his breath. Jessica reaches forward and touches his arm, but as soon as she does, Tyler reels backwards and slaps her away. “NO!” he screams. “Don’t fucking touch me! Don’t...” His breath dies and he says nothing more.

Clay stares at Tyler and sighs, turning on his heel and exiting the barn. He forces away the tears that fleck his eyes. Hearing someone cry like that, cry so deeply, so _hurt_, makes his chest constrict. He can’t take it. Tony notices him and moves forward, frowning. “What happened?”

Justin comes out next and eyes Clay before leaning against the barn. “Fuck,” is all he says.

Tony looks between both of them. “What. Happened?”

“Tyler’s crazy came out,” Cyrus growls as he walks out. “We should’ve let the police take him. There’s no way we can deal with this anymore. He’s going to snap again.”

“Just- _shut up_,” Clay snaps at Cyrus, patience thinning. “If you don’t want to be a part of this, then be my guest and leave. No one’s fucking stopping you. We didn’t get any answers and you’re clearly not here to help, so just fuck off!”

Cyrus stares at Clay, eyes wide. He eventually curls his lip. “Fuck you, Clay,” he spits. “Tyler texted _my sister_, and I’m the one that told all of you, so maybe you should just listen to me! Listen to Zach! He’s right, Tyler is unstable and there’s no way we’re going to fix him! He should be in jail!”

As the arguing continues, inside the barn, Jessica stares at Tyler with round, softened eyes. His cries have lessened significantly, but he’s shaking like a fucking leaf. She frowns, the only thing on her mind: what happened, Tyler? She scoots closer to him but doesn’t reach out to touch him. “Tyler?” she asks slowly, wondering what his reaction will be.

He doesn’t respond for a while but eventually slowly shakes his head. “I...” His breath catches in his throat. “I’m so fucked, Jessica.”

She doesn’t answer, silently waiting for him to continue.

And he does. “I...I left a note for my parents, pictures, I... if they’ve already found it, then I may as well be dead.”

_Pictures?_ Jessica frowns. “What pictures, Tyler?”

He laughs bitterly and wipes the tears away, flinching when Cyrus yells something outside. It’s muffled by the closed barn doors. “Just....pictures of....” Tyler shakes his head and begins to cry again. “Of me. What happened.”

She knows this could cross boundaries, but just decides to ask anyway. “What... what did happen, Tyler? I... you know I’d understand, right?”

Tyler sobs. “I know,” he says, voice wobbling. “You’d understand more than anyone but I just- I can’t. I can’t, I can’t!”

“Hey, shhhh.” She leans forward and hesitates. How would she know best? “Did someone hurt you? Did it happen at school?”

He nodds. 

“Who hurt you?”

Tyler doesn’t respond and instead turns his head, throwing up on the ground. He sobs again and tears stream down his face as he dry heaves. Jessica’s eyes tear up at seeing him so hurt. “Tyler, please.” She frowns. “Just....can I at least hug you?”

He wastes no time in turning and practically throws himself into her arms. He sobs into her shoulder and shakes, tremors running through his body. Jessica holds him close and runs her fingers through his hair, breathing in deeply as he wails. “It’s gonna be okay,” she whispers softly. “Okay? Don’t worry. I’ve got you, babe. Shhhhhh.”

It’s heartbreaking, really, holding Tyler this close and feeling his harsh sobs against her chest. She’s always considered him a creep, especially after everything with Hannah, but now she realizes her judgement was misplaced. She was worse than him in many more ways. So was Alex, and Justin, and even Clay. But now her eyes have opened, and she knows that she’s going to take care of him now, the whole group is, because Tyler doesn’t deserve to be alone anymore. He deserves friends. A family. People that care and will protect him.

Jessica brushes his hair out of his face, which is covered in a sheen of sweat. She’s slightly uncomfortable in her position but doesn’t move, terrified she’ll startle him or ruin this moment. The light above flickers and the barn door groans as Clay walks in. Her gaze wavers and she looks at him. “I heard yelling. Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Clay says clipped, too quickly. He crouches down and looks at Tyler, frowning deeply. He picks a scab on his finger absently, face drawn. “What’re we gonna do, Jess?” His voice is low and quiet, raspy.

She sighs and rubs her palm in circles along Tyler’s back. “I don’t know, but we have to help him.”

Clay grunts. “Cyrus is out, I think. He stomped off into the woods, I’m sure he’s fine but I doubt he’s going to want to help with anything.”

“Whatever.” Jess shrugs softly and her heart breaks when Tyler whines. “We can do it ourselves if we need to.”

“Yeah.” Clay nods and stands up again, light outlining his frame. “We can come up with a plan later. Let’s get him back to his house first.”

Jess gazes down at Tyler. “Okay.” She closes her eyes, breathes in sharply, and desperately hopes that things will get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the lateness of this chapter, I’ve been writing some other stuff and haven’t had too much motivation for this. Still, I’m back! Hope you enjoyed the chapter and stay tuned for more. Love all of you, and thanks for being so patient. Your comments and support mean the world to me <3
> 
> _Next up: Tyler returns home and things start falling into place. That is, until he sees Monty again._


End file.
